One Day You’ll Be Just A Distant Memory

I still feel like you are near. You still live in my mind. You are still the only resident of my heart. You still hurt. It’s like I lost a part of me. The wounds are still fresh even though some time has passed since you’ve been gone.

I still can’t put my finger on what caused me more damage—our break-up or our entire relationship.

We had our moments, I’ll admit that. It’s not for nothing that I still feel this love for you. We had something pretty amazing too. I have memories of us being truly happy. I can almost feel the joy of those moments. And just because of them I am unable to let go of who we used to be.

I keep romanticizing our relationship. I keep thinking about the good stuff. About moments of complete happiness. And they hurt so much. I still mourn that happiness we had and that we are never getting back.

I really have to force myself to think about the bad stuff too. That’s the part I would prefer to avoid. That’s that tricky and necessary part. It’s not masochism remembering those periods. It’s not that I want to cause myself pain intentionally. Remembering those moments is a necessary evil.

Remembering is important because that’s the only thing that brings me back to reality. And the reality is not pretty at all. The reality is that we had no other option but to end everything between us.

So, when I am trying to prevent myself from daydreaming about how perfect you were, I think back. I think back to that night when we were at each other’s throats. Arguing, shouting way too loud, throwing things around. Is that love?

At some point it got so messy that you grabbed my wrist so tight it bruised afterward. I felt so scared and so mad at the same time. We continued to fight. I was crying and yelling at the same time. Things got so bad that our neighbors sent the police knocking on our door.

Next time that I think I miss you and can’t live without you, I will recall all those moments when I had to put up with your jealous outbursts. I never gave you any cause to act like that. You were all I could see. How could you not realize that?

In those awful blackout moments you had, I was the worst of the worst. I can still feel the pain I felt back then when you called me ‘a whore’. And I still can’t believe I chose to look past that. I still can’t forgive myself for forgiving you for that.

There were many more bad moments. Definitely more bad than good. If nothing else, they completely outshine all the good ones we shared. That’s why I have to heal myself. I have to grieve and I have to let go. So I mix good memories with the bad ones. I go back and forward, struggling with myself to not think about you at all.

I have to say, I am making progress. Not much but I am happy for every slight change. I know time will heal me. I know that in spite of everything we went through, the love I had for you was so huge that it won’t disappear overnight.

I know it had to end. I know there’s no going back so I am left with no other way but forward. I know I am stronger than I give myself credit. I know I will heal. I know that one day you will be nothing more than a distant memory.